


Circumspection

by warriorpoet



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Angst, Comment Fic, Community: fakenews_fanfic, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorpoet/pseuds/warriorpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>circumspection</b><br/><i>noun</i><br/>the quality of being wary and unwilling to take risks; prudence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circumspection

Jon tenses and holds his breath when Stephen leans closer. From the corner of his eye he sees Stephen smile, catch his bottom lip between his teeth and suppress a laugh. He turns to Jon, about to comment, to give feedback on the script he's reading from Jon's computer screen, and the words stick in his throat when he sees the way Jon is staring openly at him.

They both know how dangerous this is getting.

All these long, late nights with the stress and the exhaustion and the sixpack they split getting to them. It's cabin fever and George Walker Bush and hardly ever seeing their wives anymore. It's been building for months and now they're inches away from the breaking point.

Stephen clears his throat and his mouth twitches at the corners. "Jon?" he asks, his voice rough but uncertain.

"I, um… I—" Jon's gaze flits from Stephen's mouth to his eyes and back again. He finally looks away and coughs lightly into his fist, then runs a hand through his hair. 

The spell is broken. Stephen pushes himself away from Jon's side, the rollers of his chair on the hardwood floor as loud as a passing subway train. 

"We should, ah…"

"Yeah, it's getting late," Jon finishes.

"Getting?" Stephen chuckles as he looks at his watch, pressing the button to illuminate the face. The sick green glow briefly stains Stephen's pallor and is gone just as fast. "It's almost one."

"Shit. Yeah. I'm… sorry."

"No, no, it's…"

The sentence remains unfinished, just like whatever this thing is between them will be until something in one of them breaks and brings the other down with him. The rollers on Stephen's chair clatter again and Jon thinks about throwing himself in front of that train, trying to stop him from leaving. Stephen half-smiles an apology at him as he gathers his things and Jon feels sick with need. He weighs it up in a millisecond, actions and their consequences, cause and effect, loss and… more loss.

It isn't worth it. They both know.

They bid their goodnights and Stephen turns the door handle as he closes it so his departure is silent, unfinished. This test has been passed. Tomorrow will be another.

(One year later, it will be a relief when Stephen leaves.)


End file.
